Presumably after searching one floor, Angel and Cary go downstairs into a hallway which bears a startling resemblance to the eternal hallway from "Waiting in the Wings." Angel is still feeling defensive about causing this situation, barely giving Cary a chance to say "I told you so." He tells Cary, "I know there's always a price. The question is, is it one worth paying?" Woo, we have a title! Cary asks if the price was worth it this time, and Angel snaps, "No, that spell I did was for nothing. I didn't find my son, so now he's gone forever. So, you ask me, was it worth it? Would I do it again? In a heartbeat, because he was my son!" All righty then. Did you notice how he stressed that Connor is gone forever? And have you noticed the ironic tone of the episode so far? Yeah. Be afraid. Angel hears a rattling noise, and he and Cary step into a room.
Seriously, where the hell are they? Firstly, the entire room is painted a deep red. It looks like the number on the door is 524, and I'm having trouble working out how they got to the fifth floor of a four-storey hotel by going down a flight of stairs. Although, I do remember that the elevator shaft went down an awful long way so...wait, there are windows in the room. Oh, I give up. I'm also wondering why all the lights are on everywhere. Except that if I follow that train of thought, I'll start contemplating Angel's electricity bill, and that'll get me wondering about his money situation again, and we all know that leads to madness. Angel and Cary trace the noises to the bathroom, and slowly push the door open. Inside, the crawdad is slurping water out of the toilet tank. The crawdad stops and suddenly leaps out at them, causing both Angel and Cary to start back. Cary swings his sword up and smashes the light, and the crawdad turns out to be luminescent in low light. Angel grabs a dagger and tosses it across the room, pinning the crawdad. Cary stoops down to peer at it, muttering, "Now, that wasn't so --" And then the crawdad yanks itself free and scampers away. Whoops.
Meanwhile, Fred's back in the office, saying, "I hate this!" And this hates you right back, Fred. Gunn stares out at the lobby, freaking himself out: "That creepy crawly was seriously messed up. With those little feelers, or whatever they were, sticking out of its face. Slithering around like a worm with its slimy --" Fred explains that she meant the research. Because she hates research? Since when? She whines, "Everything on Thaumogenesis is so cryptic, and full of words I've never heard of like 'emoliatives,' and I have to keep cross-referencing Chauldon with Acathian Magics." Gunn tunes her out, and so do I. Because I think they're trying to build up how indispensable Wesley is, and you know what? He's dispensable. Extremely dispensable. He's probably recyclable as well. Fred whines some more, and comes close to mentioning Wesley when Gunn finally glares at her. Has it occurred to Fred that she might make more progress if she actually looked at the books for two minutes and shut her damn mouth? But no, Fred needs a pep talk from Gunn because she's afraid she'll fail. It's hard to believe, but one of my co-workers here in the majestic TWoP Tower offices has only now noticed how very annoying Fred is. Which suggests that impressive SAT scores don't necessarily indicate keen powers of observation. Although they may indicate an eccentric sense of style, if Jessica is to be believed. What? The show? Oh yeah. Gunn steps over to reassure Fred, which is why he doesn't notice when more crawdads start materializing out in the lobby. Gunn assures Fred that even if she can't find out anything in the books, "we can handle one little slug from hell." Two more crawdads creep across the floor. I think that the pentagram is a direct connection to the irony of fate. I wonder how long it will take the characters to notice. If one of them would just stand near it and say, "We'll never figure out what's going on," their troubles would be over.